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June2013

I don’t know about you, but getting my family ready for church on Sunday mornings can send me over the edge sometimes.

It’s a paradox for sure, the cursing under my breath and snapping at everyone because they can’t move fast enough. Here we are, preparing for holy ground, and all I can think is, “Enough, already. I’m done.”

Once I get to church, however, something strange happens. The tightness is my chest relaxes,

Imagine for a moment a boy walking into his friend’s house for the first time. It’s not just any ordinary house; it’s an estate. There are marble floors, vaulted ceilings, and 6,000 square feet of antiques. Also on the property is a tennis court, a swimming pool, and private exercise quarters.

At first, all the boy does is gape. Once he composes himself, he turns to his friend and asks the million-dollar question:

I knew Harry in college, but not until a year after graduation did I really see him. He was at the beach with his friends; I was there with mine. We were all hanging out and reveling in the freedom of being young, carefree, and financially independent.

It was a gorgeous spring day, and I was happy. I had the sun on my face, love in my heart, and overwhelming gratitude for the family my husband and I had recently started.

Life was good.

As Harry and I sat in the grass outside our home, watching baby Ella crawl around with an explorer’s curiosity, a sense of peace washed over me. Everything I needed was here. My only agenda was to enjoy the scene before me.